


Yata's Silence

by goodtea



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Scars, could also be taken as platonic, yata needs a hug, yata/fushimi if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:06:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24343231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodtea/pseuds/goodtea
Summary: Yata is loud and energetic, and after years of fighting supernatural battles is covered in scars. He never hesitates to talk about any of them, until he does.
Relationships: Fushimi Saruhiko/Yata Misaki
Comments: 1
Kudos: 100





	Yata's Silence

**Author's Note:**

> So I wanted to do a writing prompt challenge, but could not think of anything. So I watched some amvs for inspo and came across one that included the scene where Fushimi throws knives at Yata during their fight and one actually gets buried pretty deep in Yata’s shoulder. Stands to reason it’d scar over, and then my brain did this.
> 
> (go easy on me I tried! >.>)

Yata could not remember how long he’d been in Homra, or really how he’d even officially joined. But if someone asked him about his scars then he had plenty of stories to tell.

No one spent years fighting with and against super powers without collecting a mark or ten. New members especially liked to ask.

“This one I got fighting the Blue King- no for real-“ he’d laugh while pointing to his foot. Or-

“Black Dog gave me that one for laughing at his boyfriend one day- somehow that was more offensive than that time I tried to kill him when we first met-“ while lifting his shirt to show off the raised and ropey skin made across his stomach from a sword. Or-

“Oh this tiny thing? I was trying to teach Anna to cook, but it turns out my chopping technique needs work too-“ said sheepishly regarding a pale white line going over an index finger.

The one thing in common with all of Yata’s stories is that he never hesitated to tell them. If someone asked, he answered. If the crowd was big enough, he’d embellish details and get really into it. Yata was famous among the newer Homra members for having the best stories.

Yata never hesitated, except over one scar. It wasn’t one commonly seen or known, typically covered by his sleeves. But one summer day the AC at Homra headquarters broke and it was silently agreed upon by everyone that, as long as Anna was not in the room, shirts were optional. As Anna was running a horse-related errand (and new members did NOT hesitate to ask Yata if it was true that she had legal custody over a horse strain kept by the Blues), shirts were rapidly lost.

“Well,” Yata answered, throwing a sweat covered shirt onto the floor from where he sat at the bar, “the actual legal owner of the horse-“

But Yata never got to finish that thought as a cold hand suddenly slid up and touched the back of his bare shoulder. Yata promptly yelped and turned, sending a glare to the offender for startling him.

“Sorry,” it was one of the new members, quickly putting his hands up to show he meant no offense, “it’s just I haven’t seen that scar before. Will you tell us about it?”

Several other members who were close enough to hear the question leaned in eagerly. There was nothing better to take their minds off the heat than a good Yata Scar Story.

But Yata frowned and raised his opposite hand to reach back and cover the scar, the action weirdly defensive.

“Sorry newbs, that one is off limits. Pick a different topic.”

There was a startled pause- when had Yata ever refused to tell a story? But their respect for their senior member won out, and quiet chatter quickly took over the silence. The member who had touched the back of Yata’s shoulder quietly apologized and made a hasty retreat to the couches.

Yata sat at the bar, left alone with his hand still over the scar. The newer members of Homra did their best to respectfully avert their eyes.

“He gave you that one, didn’t he?” Izumo offered Yata a cool drink as he asked from behind the bar. “Fushimi that is. With his knives.”

Yata hesitated. Of all his scars, that one felt oddly personal. It’d been from the time that he now thought as Before, back when Mikoto was alive. (There had been a lot of Befores, but somehow Mikoto's death had been the final one). Fushimi had left him, left Homra, but some part of Yata had still been sure he’d come back.

Blue and Red never got along, so Yata knew he and Fushimi would probably fight seriously at some point, but when the time came Yata had still initially held back. Fushimi hadn’t. That’s all it came down to.

That’s what Yata told himself. It’s what he still had to remind himself of sometimes, when Scepter 4 and Homra inevitably butted heads again. Fushimi hadn’t hesitated.

So Yata couldn’t either.

Izumo was still waiting for a response, but Yata wasn’t about to give one. It was a dumb question anyway. Anyone who wasn’t new was aware of the soft spot Yata held for the traitor.

Yata had jumped across buildings with only a skateboard and a baseball bat to interrupt meetings before. He’d been on the vanguard of Homra for almost as long as there’d been a Homra- and that was in direct spite of his age. Yata did not hesitate in anything- except.

After another silent moment Yata got up suddenly, cold glass untouched. “Alright! I’m gunna go down the block and see if maybe the corner store has those hand held fans or something. Wish me luck!”

And he was off, shirt hastily thrown back on as he ran out the door.

Izumo frowned at the untouched glass in Yata’s absence. The boy was always so loud and ready for anything that it was easy to forget.

Even Yata had parts of himself that he kept quiet.


End file.
